


fireflies

by whizzerdbrown



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: (kinda), Angst, Coming of Age, Fluff, Like really slow, M/M, Modern AU, Pining, Slow Burn, lots of pining, lydia isn't in this one (if you've read the first one), mentions of bullying, summertime angst, the fireflies are symbolism not like the owl city song
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 23:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15011498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whizzerdbrown/pseuds/whizzerdbrown
Summary: Summers always felt lonely to Whizzer Brown. All of his friends were off on vacations, with friends and family. All Whizzer had was his grandparents and the fireflies that resided in the backyard of their lake house.At least, that was until the Cohen family had moved in next door. Summers seemed to get less and less boring after Whizzer had met Marvin Cohen.





	fireflies

The five-hour drive from the large city to his grandparents’ countryside lake home gave Whizzer plenty of time to think over what he was getting into this summer. His father was driving him, this time, which meant that it was probably going to be his mother picking him up in a few months. The man had been on the phone the whole time, saying that it was ‘official business,’ something for work. Even then, at thirteen-years-old, Whizzer still didn’t really understand _what_ his dad did. His mother was an accountant, simple enough. But, this time, Whizzer’s mind wasn’t on his father’s job. This time, he was thinking about what his grandmother had told him over the phone the night before.

About their new neighbors. The Cohens, she’d said. A man and a woman, husband and wife, and their sixteen-year-old son. They were nice, she made sure to stress, and she’d said that Mrs. Cohen said that Marvin - her son - would love to be friends with Whizzer. For some reason, Whizzer highly doubted that, but he had only told his grandmother that he was excited to meet them. 

He was, kind of. There was a good chance that he could make a friend - which he could definitely use - but there was also the chance that this guy wouldn’t even want to be his friend. His mother could just be setting him up. Whizzer was young, but he wasn’t stupid. Most sixteen-year-olds wouldn’t want to hang out with a thirteen-year-old for two and a half months. But, if anything, it meant that his grandparents weren’t out there alone for the other nine and a half months. Whizzer always hated leaving in August, because it meant that his grandmother and grandfather wouldn’t see any family for a while. It made him feel bad. At least, now, they would have some more company.

It didn’t really seem like the five hours had passed when they actually made it to their destination. His dad did get off the phone long enough to hug him goodbye and tell him to have a good time, but that was that, and then he was gone. Which was fine, because he was quickly greeted by his grandparents, pulled inside, immediately being bombarded with questions about how he’d been. 

How he was, how his parents were, how his friends were, how school was going and if he was planning on staying on the baseball team next year. And then, there it came. 

“Oh, the Cohens are coming over for dinner tonight!” His grandmother said. 

And his grandfather was quick to back her up, “We can’t wait for you to meet Marvin. He’s a wonderful boy.”

 

Marvin was _not_ a wonderful boy. 

The Cohens had come over earlier than Whizzer had expected. So Mrs. Cohen could help his grandmother cook, so Mr. Cohen could talk about sports (or something old men talked about, Whizzer didn’t know) with his grandfather. So all the adults could send Whizzer and Marvin out to the backyard to ‘get to know each other.’ 

“So, I’m Whizzer,” he’d tried, holding his hand out to the older boy. 

“What kind of a name is that?” Marvin shot back. 

Whizzer rolled his eyes, “At least my name doesn’t sound like it belongs to someone born in the 40’s.” 

Marvin only glared. 

If Whizzer was being honest, it was a little bit intimidating. The boy was taller than him and those icy blue eyes of his seemed to be so _full_ of anger and hatred. Of _loathing._ So, yeah, a little bit intimidating. Whizzer found himself stepping back a bit. 

The other rolled his eyes, mimicking Whizzer’s earlier action, and turned away. He clearly knew that he had successfully asserted his dominance. Whizzer wanted to say something, to throw Marvin off guard. To let him know that, yes, he was only thirteen, but he wasn’t scared. Not exactly scared. _Intimidated and scared were different things in Whizzer’s mind, okay? Let him live._ And after moments of trying to come up with what he should say, Whizzer decided that actions spoke louder than words, so he acted instead. 

 

“Marvin fell into the lake.”

“What?”

Clearly, the adults didn’t believe Whizzer’s excuse for suddenly running inside the house. And they were right not to. 

Maybe pushing the new neighbors’ son off the dock wasn’t Whizzer’s brightest decision. But he didn’t have much time to think about that, because Marvin, now soaking wet, was coming inside and calling Whizzer an asshole. And, despite his mother warning him to watch his language, Marvin dragged Whizzer right back outside and shoved him right off the dock, too. 

Whizzer swore he could hear his grandmother’s voice saying “Boys will be boys!” as he fell backward into the freezing water. 

 

The rest of the summer went like that. Mr. and Mrs. Cohen and Whizzer’s grandparents finding some reason to force Whizzer and Marvin to hang out. And it always ended up with Marvin making some rude comment, and then Whizzer smarting off to him, and then one of them shoving the other into the lake. Whizzer was sure that, by the end of this summer, he would never enjoy swimming ever again. 

In fact, the last thing Whizzer said to Marvin before going home was “See you, loser,” before promptly pushing him off the dock and running away, getting into his mother’s car before Marvin even knew what was happening. 

_+++_

The next summer went the same way. Every single day, without fail. And then it was the summer that Whizzer was fifteen, and that’s when things seemed to change. 

Marvin’s parents had seemingly realized that the two were never going to get along. Whizzer’s grandparents seemed to realize that, too. And Marvin was a legal adult, then, anyway, so they couldn’t make him do things anymore, even if he did decide that he was going to still live with them while he did his online college classes for the next few years. They stopped making Marvin and Whizzer sit together in the backyard of Whizzer’s grandparents’ lake house. They stopped trying to convince the pair to talk, to get along. 

Whizzer didn’t see Marvin for the first half of the summer. At all. The Cohens didn’t come over for dinner much anymore, and if they did, Marvin stayed home. He was applying for colleges, they said. Whizzer would have liked to say that he didn’t care what Marvin was doing, but he did. But he didn’t let that out. 

And then, he did. Whizzer was sitting at the end of the dock, his shoes at his side as he let his feet dangle off into the water. He was just watching the fireflies light up every so often. It was late, he should probably be asleep, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t the only one. 

“What are you doing out here?”

Whizzer must have stared at Marvin, dumbly, too long, because the other spoke up again. “It’s past midnight. Do you ever sleep?”

“What, too late for you? You really live up to your name,” Whizzer ended up saying back, before turning to look back out at the water. 

Marvin ended up sitting down beside Whizzer, instead of shoving him into the water like he’d expected. 

“Do you seriously come out here every summer?” Marvin asked. “That’s what your grandparents said. Do you not hang out with friends?”

“I only hang out with friends during the school year. They all have better things to do during the summer. Plus, the only time I see my grandparents is when they come over for Hanukkah,” Whizzer shrugged. 

“You’re Jewish.”

“Half.”

Marvin gave him a weird look.

“My dad’s side of the family is Mormon,” Whizzer explained, though he didn’t really know why. He and Marvin were supposed to hate each other. Why were they carrying on a conversation like they were friends suddenly? 

“We are, too,” Marvin said. “Well, Jewish. Not Mormon.”

“Why are you being nice to me?” He decided to just ask. It was weird. Whizzer needed to know what Marvin’s motive was. 

And the boy in question rolled his eyes in answer. “They’re still pressing me to talk to you. It was your grandparents that said you didn’t have friends-“

“-I have friends!-“

“-and that they were worried about you. Then my parents decided to mention that I don’t have friends, either, so we _need_ to be friends. It’s stupid. I’ll go if you want.”

Except, he didn’t want that. Marvin’s words had caught Whizzer’s interest. “You don’t have friends?”

“Well, no. I’m homeschooled. There’s nobody around here, either. It’s all old people.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Marvin stared at him. 

“So, we’re friends now?” Whizzer hummed, raising his eyebrows. 

Marvin shook his head. “No. We’re _pretending_ to be friends, so my parents get off of my ass and so that your grandparents don’t get on yours.”

“That’s some Dear Evan Hansen bullshit if you ask me, but okay.”

“... What?”

“Nothing. Musical theatre. You wouldn’t get it.”

“Right.”

Whizzer shook his head, “I’ll pretend to be your friend. As long as you stop pushing me into the lake.”

“Only if you stop, too.” Marvin agreed. 

“Deal.” 

“Deal.” 

This summer was about to get interesting.


End file.
